


If Tomorrow Never Comes

by heavnofhell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 19:26:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11653143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavnofhell/pseuds/heavnofhell
Summary: There's a difference between what Sam wants, and what he needs.





	If Tomorrow Never Comes

It was just as it had been that first time - all of those years before - Sam waking from a deep slumber, very much aware of an additional presence in the room, in whatever sense that might be. Just as he had before, he turned over on his side, facing the visitor, the vision, the dream… Only this time, it was not the soft and warm face of his dead girlfriend staring back at him with eyes he knew not to be her own. It was  _Nick_ \- or, rather, Nick’s body, the cool stare of an Archangel peering out through the borrowed eyes. 

“What do you want?” Sam’s deep voice is calm -  _remarkably_ calm - and he doesn’t move away or jump up as he once had. Lucifer’s pale face remains impassive for only a moment, a slow smile painting his lips, entirely devoid of mirth, self-depreciating and weak. He continues to stare at Sam a bit longer, his lips parting hesitantly, his sweet, calming voice filling the room as no human voice could. 

“Just this.” Despite everything, that voice still soothes the hunter as nothing ever has, and he steels himself against the onslaught of unbidden emotion, his eyes sliding closed and as a long exhalation passes through his lips. 

“ _Why_?” He reopens his eyes, gazing back at Lucifer, his expression equal parts defiance and sorrow. “You know where I am. You’ve been here before.” He licks his lips, a small shake of his head belying the uncertainty and despair that has settled into the very core of his being. “So why like this?” 

“Would you be so accepting, were I physically here?” He had a point. Sam would have been on his feet in a heartbeat, had Lucifer posed any  _real_ threat to him. 

“Lucifer -” He speaks the name, and for once, it isn’t dripping with fear or disgust. In fact, there is something of a longing behind the tone, as though the words he wishes to say are haunting him, and have been all along, and only now the ghost of them is making itself known. 

“I don’t want to fight you. I’m so  _tired_ of fighting you.” There is a stinging in his eyes, and he swallows down hard, but the Archangel only watches, his face that usual, eerily unreadable mask. 

“I  _never_ wanted to fight you, Sam.” Why does his voice have to sound so damn heartbroken? Why does it make Sam feel so fucking busted apart inside? He has  _no right_  to make him feel these things… but somehow, he still does, and if he could ever admit it, the human thinks he knows why. 

“But I never thought this is what we would become. It wasn’t meant to be this way.” Lucifer presses his pale lips together, reaching out so slowly it almost drives Sam insane, his fingertips hardly ghosting the hunter’s warm cheek.

“But it is.” Sam’s deep voice causes Lucifer to draw his hand back as though he’s been bitten, and for one, devastating moment, his expression begins to crumple, and Sam is terrified that he’ll start crying. But he doesn’t. Not this time. The Archangel closes his eyes, a soft breath leaving his lips as he shakes his head gently. 

“Then I’m sorry.” His voice is strained but certain, and the sapphire orbs look back up at Sam with complete honesty and regret shining through. He stays as he is, removed from the human, but close - _so damn close_ it’s like there is a hurricane building between their bodies, their powerful energies attracting and repelling like magnets, an impossible calm underlying the tumultuous storm of their bond. 

As another silence passes between them, it’s Sam’s turn to fight back the emotions that are taking control of his previously hardened expression, his eyes bright and his brows pulled together and his lips pressed into a hard line… But despite his valiant efforts, he can feel the hot tear that rolls so quickly down onto the pillow, and he ignores it, his reddening eyes never leaving the cool and clear blue that served as his anchor for so many torturous decades. 

“Why?” He can’t stop the question from falling into the quiet again, his voice so tight this time that the word is hardly more than a breath. “Why, Lucifer?” 

The Archangel watches Sam, eyes so sorrowful and honest that Sam swears he can look straight through and see his heart breaking, and he tells himself that Lucifer no longer has a heart - Lucifer isn’t  _capable_ of love. But he knows it’s a blatant lie, and he  _knows_ , if anyone had  _fought_ for him - if anyone had told him how much good he still had left in him - things would be different now. Things would be  **right**. 

“I suppose we’ve both been cheated.” The smooth voice answers his unspoken thoughts, and his response - an unbidden, choked sob - brings such a look of sympathy from the Archangel, and it hurts even more because  _there’s_ Lucifer’s heart, and  _there’s_ his love, and  **God** , how Sam missed seeing that look… But it doesn’t matter. He keeps telling himself that it doesn’t matter, because everything is different now, and they can never turn back the hands of time. 

“Lucifer -” He keeps letting that name drop from his tongue like the prayer it was meant to be, and every time he says it, it carries a new meaning. This time, he’s asking - he’s  _begging_ for the Archangel to stay, if only for a while. He’s asking him in words not spoken, and Lucifer hears him, loud and clear. 

“Yes, Sam.” He nods, but doesn’t move from his place, his eyes soft and his smile sad, but warm. “And come tomorrow?” 

The question isn’t exactly unexpected, but it’s quiet and measured, and it still hits Sam like a blow to the chest, and he takes a moment to consider his answer, knowing the truth is the only option. 

“Tomorrow, I go back to not needing you. Tomorrow, I remember all of the reasons I  _can’t_ need you.” He feels another tear drip down his skin, and he swallows down hard, allowing a shaky breath to leave his trembling lips as he nods resolutely. Slowly, he moves his hand over the sheet, extending his arm until his palm rests flat against the mattress halfway between them. With a sad smile, and an undeniable shine to his own cool eyes, Lucifer returns the gesture, their fingertips hardly touching as they lie across from one another on the too-large bed. 

“If only the world could end tonight.” And Sam smiles at the Archangel’s words, if just a little, the softest laugh falling from his lips in a choked breath. Maybe he’s joking - maybe he’s not - but Sam knows, for  _them_ , the world ended a long, long time ago. 


End file.
